Long Night
by Darthanne
Summary: There's a fine line between dreams and reality, a thin membrane that can be crossed by the power of love. An 'Outlasting Time' story


Long Night (1/1)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG – angst, supernatural.

Pairings: 3x4

Summary: There's a fine line between dreams and reality, a thin membrane that can be crossed by the power of love.

Archive: http/dryerspace. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This ficlet is part of the 'Outlasting Time' arc. It's set just after 'Not Forgotten', so continuity wise it's probably good idea to read that first if you haven't already.

Comments to: anne eased his arm free of the sleeping man besides him. Quatre shifted in his sleep, frowning, a light moan escaping his lips.

"It's okay," Trowa whispered, running his fingers through sweat soaked blond hair, before stroking Quatre's cheek gently. Quatre leaned into the touch, sighed, and settled back into sleep.

It had been a long night. Quatre had not coped with Alimah's death at all. He had managed to keep himself together at the hospital, seemingly taking strength from Trowa's presence, but once they had arrived home and were alone, he had allowed his grief to take control. It had been a humbling experience for Trowa, seeing the man he loved so upset and knowing that the comfort he offered was not enough. Quatre needed time, but the double shock of his sister's death and the knowledge that his mother had died in much the same way after giving birth to him was more than he could deal with for the moment.

Trowa shook his head, and slipping out of bed, walked over the to window. Denial and grief were not a good combination. Quatre had refused to admit to himself the possiblity of his sister's death, had tried to convince himself that she would recover. Alimah had said goodbye but the finality of her words, the meaning behind them, had not hit home until it was too late.

Dawn was approaching, but outside it was still more dark than light. Trowa loved this time of the day, it was quiet and he needed that for the moment.

Quatre shifted in his sleep again and Trowa turned, taking the couple of steps back to the bed they shared to rearrange the blankets around his husband.

A sigh came from the other side of the room. Trowa straightened, immediately alert, one hand reaching for the gun he no longer carried. The old rocking chair in the corner creaked rhythmically, back and forth, and Trowa shivered.

"Who's there?" he hissed, placing himself between the intruder and the still sleeping Quatre.

"He's never liked the cold." The voice was a woman's; soft, and somehow familiar, yet not.

"Who's there?" Trowa repeated, fingers circling the light switch. He preferred to know what he was dealing with before taking on an unknown opponent.

The figure moved closer to the bed and Trowa turned on the light. The woman smiled at him, the light reflecting off her blonde hair.

"Do I know you?" he asked, frowning. The smile, like her voice, made him think that they must have met before.

"Not directly, no." The woman seemed determined not to answer his questions. She appeared to be at least ten years older then either of them, yet her clothes reflected the fashion of twenty years ago. "I had hoped to meet you, Trowa Barton," she said, smiling again. This time there was a sadness to it. "My Quatre talks about you, often."

"He's never mentioned /you," Trowa said, knowing his response was less than polite. Quatre would have frowned at him if he had been awake, and smoothed over the conversation. Trowa wasn't in the mood for such things. His concern for Quatre took precedence and this woman made him uneasy. She didn't seem to mean them any harm but yet there was something about her that was unsettling. "Quatre is not yours."

She chuckled. "You really need to work on that overprotective streak, my dear." She bent over the bed, her fingers caressing Quatre's cheek, and yet not quite touching his skin.

"I'm not overprotective," Trowa muttered, not liking the familiarity she was showing towards his husband.

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "Quatre says the same thing. Apparently he's not overprotective of those he cares about either." She shook her head. "He thinks our conversations are a dream, wistful thinking at most. I wish…"

The first whispers of sunlight played across the bed, capturing Quatre in their embrace. The woman moved back towards the darkness.

"/Are/ you a dream?" Trowa suddenly wasn't sure. He took a step closer to her, reaching for her hand, but somehow she evaded his grasp.

"There's a fine line between them and reality. You two share a lot of dreams, remember that. It's a long road ahead but I believe in you, in both of you." She moved towards the window, fingers tracing patterns across the cold glass. "Outlasting time," she whispered, almost to herself.

"What did you say?" Trowa glanced over at Quatre. His lover was framed by light, the woman in the shadows, almost as though she was somehow between the two.

"Look after him." She brushed a lock of hair from her face, a gesture Trowa recognised as Quatre's. "This has pierced him more than any sword, the mending will be difficult, but not impossible. Trust is the answer."

A sigh came from the bed. Quatre smiled in his sleep. "Love you," he whispered.

"Love you too." Her words were faint, an echo of Trowa's. "Forever."

Trowa turned to the window, his realisation of who she was, struggling against the fact that she couldn't be. "Who..?"

But the words died on his lips.

There was no one there. He rubbed his eyes, as though waking from a dream. Sighing, he crawled back under the covers, put his arms around Quatre and drifted back to sleep.

Over at the window, the curtains pulled back to reveal the world outside, then closed, leaving them to their dreams.

Fin


End file.
